Monthly Archives: December 2012

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 5,500 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 9 years to get that many views.

Like this:

Last night I was thinking about New Year’s resolutions. I hate those suckers. All they are (to me, anyway) is a reminder of what a failure I am. As a person with a personality disorder, I already spend enough time dwelling on what a piece-of-crap failure I am at life, thank you very much! I can’t tell you how many times in the last eight months that I resolved to not say this certain thing, or use that tone, or exhibit this behavior. Forget New YEAR’S resolutions…I make a New DAY’S resolution almost seven times a week. And I break them just as often.

No, I think this year I’m not going to worry about a New Year’s resolution. I know all the things I need to work on, and there is probably not enough space on the internet for me to list all of them. I am going to just continue what I am doing. I am going to go day by day, relying on the knowledge I’ve gained from Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (and a little help from God – maybe more than a little), and try to do the next right thing. Looking at my goal resolution for an entire year is just too much for me to handle. I’m just going to take it slowly, and hope that each day I will be a little better off. That each day I will be a little nicer, say one less nasty thing, not use that mean tone as often, not assume that EVERY time I interpret something negatively that that is an accurate portrayal of reality. I’m looking forward to this upcoming year being better than the last…One day at a time.

So, I have some free time at work right now. We have a Christmas party tonight that I am feeling anxious about, so I thought I would distract myself by playing around on the internet. Now I’m wondering why I was so foolish as to research the Mayan prediction that the world will end on 12/21/2012…THIS FRIDAY!!! It’s like my brain is just LOOKING for things to feel anxious about! I am a Christian and subscribe to the beliefs put forth in the Bible. I know what it says about how the world will end. Well, as best as my mind can understand it. I know there are a lot of Christian theories about the end of the world, and I vacillate back and forth as to what will happen. I’m not going into that here, though. My point is that I firmly believe that God is in control, and things will happen the way He has planned. Which is why it is absolutely insane that I am FREAKING OUT about Friday coming. I guess that’s not the only reason that’s insane. LOL

I was on some website that explained the end of the Mayan calendar. I didn’t really retain the information well enough to be able to articulate it to anyone, but they had a lot of scientific “facts” and reasons for why it is SURE that the world will be ending on Friday. Something about the way the sun is pulled and how it will tip, which it does every 11 years. This year is different because of the placement of Jupiter and another planet. Basically, from what I could tell, the sun is going to flip our solar system, and there is a question as to whether the Milky Way Galaxy will even exist.

Wait a second…The website I was on talked about how to be prepared for the world ending, and to know that you can’t rely on the government to get you the supplies and utilities you have become used to having. If the Milky Way Galaxy will no longer exist, what good will it do for me to stock up on food and water? What good will it do for me to be armed to the teeth?

Maybe I don’t need to worry about this as much as I thought. This was probably a silly post, and I’m sorry to the people who made it through to the end for wasting your time. I feel better, though. 🙂

I’m going to say a little about last week’s school shooting in Connecticut. First, I was absolutely shocked that, after I heard the news, I was close to tears and felt knots in my stomach. I say this shocked me because, up until recently, I didn’t think I could really feel empathy or sympathy. I’m not a fan of children in general, and probably wouldn’t have felt affected in any way by this until the past month or so. I was astonished to find that I had to limit my exposure to the media coverage of this tragedy. I didn’t think I could be affected like this by something that didn’t actually happen to me. I was sickened to hear that the shooter targeted these young children, and shot all of them between three and eleven times each. I still cannot even believe that someone would go after a school in this way. I have not yet heard if the shooter was mentally ill, on or off medication, or something else along those lines. I know that his mother was the teacher of the class he eradicated. I guess it all boils down to some issue or problem he had with his mother. Now, I can 100% understand wanting to go after your mother with a gun (or a knife, or throwing stars, or a brick, or a bazooka), but what I just cannot fathom is why he would feel the need to take out an entire kindergarten class with her. When I had fantasies of “getting rid” of my mother, I thought it was likely that my father and sister would be necessary casualties, but I just cannot imagine going someplace where there are so many innocent people who have nothing to do with her and killing all of them, too.

I think it’s time that I revised my view on gun control. I used to think that the 2nd amendment right to bear arms meant that anyone and everyone should be allowed to have guns, and any kind of gun they wanted. I disagreed with the ban on assault weapons. I disagreed with some states having a waiting period to purchase guns. I guess it really wasn’t something I thought about much. I THOUGHT that I thought about it. I thought that my stance on gun control was formed based on intelligent thoughts and the fact that owning guns was a constitutionally protected right.

The fact is, though, that I never gave it too much thought, and I didn’t really have a need to. At this point, I guess it’s time to refine my views, and I’m going to do it right here on my blog.

After the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary School last Friday, I no longer think owning guns is such a great thing. Now, I know that “anything can be used as a weapon”. I know that a skilled person can take an envelope and make it a weapon. I know that a fork can be a weapon. I know that a bottle of shampoo can be a weapon. A bottle of shampoo cannot kill almost 30 people in as many minutes. An envelope isn’t going to wipe out a class of kindergartners before help can arrive. No one is going to get angry, lose their temper, and attack a school with a fork.

We need to be aware that we are living in a different time than when the Constitution was written. Society has been steadily devolving since it was written. There is more mental illness. There is more anger towards people. There is much more hate. People are far more desensitized to violence. People no longer put the greater good ahead of themselves. People think that they are number one, and don’t care about society as a whole. Not to mention, if a person was angry at their neighbor in 1787, they could pick up their musket and walk the five miles to their neighbor’s house for revenge, but chances are by the time they got there, they would have realized whatever they were angry about wasn’t worth killing someone over. In this day and age, if someone is angry and wants to do some damage, it would take no time at all to drive to that person’s house or work or school. It would take no time at all to load up their automatic hand gun and fire off six shots into their neighbor’s head.

I don’t know that I would go so far as to say that all guns should be outlawed, but there should definitely be some tighter restrictions put into place. There have been too many tragedies like this lately. Too many to ignore the fact that the society we live in today is vastly different from the society that put the Constitution into place.

Christmas is getting closer and closer. Breathing down my neck. I’ve been feeling increasingly more anxious this past week because of it, but probably not for the reason most people become anxious around Christmas. I’m not worried that I won’t get my house decorated in time because I don’t decorate. I’m not worried that I won’t be done with my Christmas shopping because I don’t usually buy gifts for people. I’m not worried that my cards won’t get sent out because I don’t send Christmas cards. I’m not even worried about spending time with family, because the only family I’ll be spending my holiday with is my husband and our incredibly-smart-almost-human dog. What I’m currently stressing about is how I will respond when I am asked what I’ll be doing for Christmas.

I have been out of contact off and on with my birth family for the past three years or so. Several months ago I made the final decision to keep them out of my life for good. I’ve done a lot better ever since.

I’m afraid that the people I work with will feel the need to pry into my business and ask about me spending time with family during the holidays. A few of them know that relations with my birth family are strained at best. One or two know that I have no contact with them. All the others are in the dark.

In the past, I have had people think it’s their place to comment on my relationship with the members of my birth family. I had one woman tell me to get right with my mother as she is the only mother I’ll have. I’ve had others ask question after question, trying to understand what could lead a person to end all communication with the people that are supposed to love you above all others. I try not to talk about personal issues with people I work with. Not only is it none of their damn business, it’s just not professional. Plus, I find that the less I tell them about what I’m going through and dealing with, the fewer questions I will get. I hate feeling pressured to answer questions about topics that I do not want to discuss. I’m not at a point where I feel comfortable just telling people to back off, or that things are none of their business.

I think I’ve decided what I’m going to say if asked about my Christmas plans. To start, I will say something along the lines of my husband and I not being sure yet what we are doing. This is true. I was talking to Jay just this morning about what we would do for Christmas. We obviously won’t be visiting family, but we would like to do something to make the day special. If I am asked about spending time with family, I will mention again that my husband and I have not yet cemented our plans. If asked about “going home” for Christmas, I will say that we plan on staying in West Virginia. If the other person continues to press me and pushes to know about plans with my birth family, I will let them know that I am not doing anything with them. Further pushing will reveal that I am estranged from my birth family. When I get the usual “Oh, but you only have one family,” or “You can’t stay mad at blood!” or “Your family loves you no matter what,” or any of the other bullshit people like to spout, I have decided what I’m going to say.

I am going to say that not everyone is a good person. Not everyone should be procreating and be entrusted with children. What is the child of someone who never should have reproduced supposed to do? Are they supposed to constantly submit themselves to pain and abuse just because they share the same blood with a person? Are they supposed to stay in a hurtful relationship just because someone decided to be irresponsible and have a child when they couldn’t properly take care of it? Why is a person obligated to be wounded time after time just because it is a family member doing the wounding? Blood may be thicker than water, but in my mind that just means it will drown you all the faster.

I’ve decided that I do not need to feel bad or ashamed because I am not spending time (or communicating) with my birth family. I don’t need to feel in the wrong for cutting off contact. I am doing what I need to do to make my life worth living. I have no reason to feel badly in any way.

There is a person who two who should be feeling shame over this, but it’s not me. I just need to be prepared with a strong, confident answer for nosy people who want to know about my holiday plans.

Crazy Jay would like me to ask everyone to take a little time and read his blog, and then comment on whether or not he actually has mental issues. He used the word “crazy”, but I didn’t want anyone to think I was being insulting. His most recent blog post is right here and is in response to the post I just wrote entitled Don’t Forget You’re Wearing Pink Glasses. I’m not really sure why he needs this reassurance that he IS crazy. All he has to do is read over his past blog posts. WHOOP WHOOP!

Crazy Jay and I were talking last night about mental illness. He has been having a hard time lately dealing with the merry-go-round of thoughts that is speeding faster and faster in his head. And it doesn’t help when all the intense, ever-changing emotions are thrown in there, too. What a lovely little cocktail of craziness. I told him that I thought he wouldn’t struggle so much and he would have an easier time accepting things if he did some research on his handful of disorders (PTSD, Bipolar, Borderline Personality Disorder…and maybe more). I have told him in the past it would be beneficial if he did some research and learned about the issues he has. I have noticed that he will either change the subject, or give reasons as to why he can’t/won’t/doesn’t feel like looking these things up online. I called him on it, and he said that he feels like if he better understood PTSD, bipolar, and BPD, he would just use them as excuses for his behaviors, feelings, thoughts, perceived weakness, etc.

It all suddenly made sense. Jay has been telling me that he thinks I use my BPD as a license to do and say whatever I want, regardless of who it hurts. Now, a lot of times when I do something crazy, I WILL mention the BPD. I’m not using it as an excuse. Just an explanation. Someone “normal” could look at my behavior and wonder what in the world is wrong with me. I’m glad to at least have an answer. LMCAO I know the reason for my nutty, irrational, erratic behavior. It’s my mental disorder. That may not even be correct. It’s my PERSONALITY disorder. I’m not sure if those two are the same thing. Anyway, I was telling Jay that it was irresponsible of him to know that he had these issues and disorders, but to not really know ABOUT them. One with mental issues knows that there are things going on with them, but they can’t adapt to a life with mental illness if they don’t know what part of their thoughts and behaviors are considered “normal”, and what parts are considered “crazy”.

If a person knows that they have weaknesses, it doesn’t make sense to try to live your life as if there is nothing wrong. It just flat out will not work. You will become frustrated and begin feeling hopeless. I know that I did. Before I accepted that I have borderline personality disorder and all that entails, I felt like nothing would ever get better. Not only would things not get better, but I felt like it was all my fault that they didn’t get better! I went through each and every day feeling like a piece of shit. I knew by other people’s reactions that what I was doing was hurtful and wrong, but I was unable to change it. I thought that by my sheer will power I could change my thinking patterns and my behavior. When I couldn’t MAKE myself change, I sunk into a deeper depression and became suicidal. Now, don’t get me wrong. Each person is responsible for their actions. If they behave in a way that is unacceptable to society at large, it is up to them to do what they can to better themselves and correct their misbehavior. I am responsible for using the skills I have learned in dialectical behavioral therapy. I know that one of my weaknesses is that I shoot off at the mouth whatever I’m thinking (unless I’m in work mode, then I’m a doormat). I am responsible for being careful of what I say and how I say it. Acknowledging ones weaknesses, disabilities, deficiencies, etc. does not mean that that person is not responsible for what they do and say. Having a mental illness does not give one a free pass to be an asshole to everyone they meet.

Compare the mental limitations to a person with physical limitations. If a man has a severe back injury, he needs to keep in mind that there are certain things he just cannot do without doing further damage to himself. He can’t go around lifting heavy boxes. He may be restricted as to what weight lifting exercises he can attempt. He may not be able to spend hours bent over a sink full of dishes. People with physical handicaps know what their limits are. They are aware of their restrictions. Though they can’t use their physical disability as an excuse for bad behavior. A paraplegic can’t roll over a young child’s toes with their wheelchair and then say it’s ok because they can’t walk. A person cannot use their limitations as an excuse, but they must be aware of them in order to live a productive life.

I was explaining it to Jay like this: Having a mental illness/personality disorder/mental issues/whatever is like seeing the world through pink-tinted glasses. As long as you keep in mind that you are wearing pink glasses, you will know that what you see and what you take in may or may not be reality. If you’re wearing tinted glasses and look at the clouds, just remember you’re wearing those glasses. You don’t look at the clouds and think how awesome it is that all the clouds of the world are pink. You KNOW that you are seeing things through a slightly skewed perspective, and you can adjust your thoughts/beliefs/feelings/actions accordingly. If you go through life wearing these bright pink glasses but not acknowledging that you are wearing glasses, the things that you perceive as reality will not be the same reality as other people see.

As a person with a mental illness, it is important for me to remember that I see things through a different filter than everyone else does. What I see may not make sense to another person. What I see probably won’t be what someone else sees. And that’s ok. It’s ok that I don’t interpret things the same way as everyone else. It’s ok that I may feel things more intensely than other people. It’s ok that I am more sensitive than most people. What is NOT ok is for me to ignore these limitations and challenges that I face. It is NOT ok for me to forget that I am seeing the world through a filter. It is NOT ok for me to think what I am experiencing is what everyone else is experiencing, and therefore I am excused in behaving poorly or in a hurtful way. I need to remember that I am wearing pink glasses, and stop thinking that the sky is purple, or the clouds are rose colored. As long as I keep it in the forefront of my mind that my perspective is a little bent and change my behavior accordingly, I might just be able to get through each day without dropping bombs on the person and dog that I love.

This is one of P!nk’s songs that I really like. It doesn’t talk about her crazy behavior or wanting to throttle her spouse, but it DOES talk about appreciating the moment we are in. Looking back on when things were a little more difficult and realizing that today is a good day. This is just a nice, poppy, feel-good song. Nothing too terribly deep. Just a little bit of a message to sink into your skull while you’re bee-bopping to the music. Please ignore my loser way of saying “dancing”. I don’t dance, so I have to come up with other ways of describing the incredibly stiff and awkward way I move while listening to upbeat music. 🙂

1,2,3,4,5 years go by
I don’t really know why I don’t really know why
7,8,9,11 years go by
I don’t really know why I don’t really know why
I still feel the same way I did when I was 17
I still look over my shoulder waitin for the world to change

But these are the good old days
These are the good old days
These are the good old days
And I think I’d like to stay
I’d like to stay
I’d like to stay

1,2,3,4,5 years ago
I didn’t see a belly with a child on the inside
6,7,8,10 years ago I thought I knew about love
I only knew about the fight
I look back and I realize all those times I was lonely
Praying for something to hurry up and come and save me

But these are the good old days
These are the good old days
These are the good old days
And I wish that I could stay
I wish that I could stay
I wish I could stay

These are the good old days
I could stay
These are the good old days
And the more that you let it go
The faster the time goes
The darker the night is
The lighter the moon glows

These are the good old days
These are the good old days

1,2,3,4,5 years from now
I hope I’m still getting down
I hope I’m still around
But 6,7,8,10 beers ago
I had a revelation all is well right now
It’s all good right now
It’s all good right now
It’s all good right now

These are the good old days
These are the good old days
These are the good old days
And I wish that I could stay

These are the good old days
These are the good old days
These are the good old days
And I wish that I could stay

These are the good old days
These are the good old days
These are the good old days
And I wish that I could stay
I wish that I could stay
And I wish that I could stay
These are the good old days
And I wish that I could stay

These are the good old days
These are the good old days
These are the good old days
These are the good old days
These are the good old days
These are the good old days

Lately Crazy Jay and I have been getting into daily fights. About silly little things. It seems to Jay that I am constantly attacking him. Constantly slicing at his heels. Constantly making nasty comment after nasty comment. It seems to me that Jay is taking something benign I say and twisting it so it sounds nasty in his head. It seems to me that he is trying to pick fights over every little thing that’s said. Then, when I try to explain that I didn’t mean it the way he was taking it, he gets mad and tells me that I’m invalidating him and telling him how to think and feel. I’m pretty worn out. I’m emotionally exhausted. He says it’s killing him and he can’t take it anymore. He tells me that I hold him hostage with my feelings and emotions. That I hold him accountable for hurt he did not inflict, and am constantly ruining his day by “insisting” on taking things the wrong way. I feel like he is doing the same thing. He tells me that my attitude shows that I think I am the most important person, everyone needs to understand me, and I do not need to be held accountable for my actions. I feel like he is doing the same thing. He tells me all the time that I am misinterpreting things and taking them wrong, but gets mad when I tell him the same thing. He feels the need to take everything personally (even political events that unravel on TV), but gets mad when he perceives me as doing the same thing. We have been going round and round and round again for weeks now.

I came to a new understanding while I was driving home for lunch today. I have been wondering why he has to make everything such a big deal. Why he has to blow everything out of proportion. Why he can’t be more understanding towards me. That’s when I remembered: He has been. He has been more understanding of me than anyone could be expected. At the beginning of the year, he endured months on end of me being ruled 100% by my emotions. He endured the constant verbal attacks when I didn’t know why I was angry. He endured the long crying fits and the not-so-secret cutting I was engaging in. He endured me yelling at him and taking everything wrong. Even when it was a compliment meant to make me feel better, I found a way to take it as an insult. He sat quietly while I went through six to eight months of up and down roller coaster emotions and sheer insanity. He didn’t know from one day to the next if I may try to kill myself on purpose, or if I may cause serious damage by accidently cutting into my skin too deep.

Take it back even further, to the beginning of 2011. I was sure I was a psychopath, and acting without regard to anyone’s feelings. I was purposefully hurtful to the husband who stood by me. I would TRY to lash out at him. I would TRY to push his buttons. I was sure during that time that I was going to divorce him. I don’t even know why I thought that. I flirted with men and dressed in a way that I had no business dressing. I went to see the Chip and Dales dancers perform.

Through all of this, Jay just loved me. He may have lost his temper every now and then, not that he could be blamed. He may have been drinking more than he should, not that he could be blamed. He slept in a separate room at my request. He left me alone while I was home at my request. He never once left me. He loved me. He knew I was going through a crazy time. He knew the person he saw acting this way wasn’t the woman he married. He knew I would come back.

Jay loved me steadfastly the entire time, and all the while HE was battling demons of his own. He has bipolar disorder. He has PTSD. He has borderline personality disorder. He is the adult child of an alcoholic, which I understand can affect a person’s thoughts and personality. He loved me even better than a mentally fit man could have. He was more patient than a man without all his difficulties would have been. He stuck with me when everyone else around me was dropping like flies. He showed me love when no one else would.

After going through at least two years of me bouncing around, totally off my rocker, his cracks have started showing. He used to be very good at containing his crazy side. Not so much anymore. But who could blame him? At this point in my life, I am in a relatively good spot. I am more self-aware than ever before. I am more stable than ever before (not that that’s saying much). I am more positive than ever before (again, not saying much). I know that I am blessed to have the husband I do. Especially after all we have been through. I think it’s my turn, now. It’s my turn to stand by my crazy-ass spouse and show him how much I love him and am committed to him.

I know that it’s going to be difficult, especially as I still struggle with controlling my emotions and I no longer have the benefit of Dialectical Behavior Therapy or individual therapy. I know that I am going to have to swallow hurt after hurt. I know that I am going to have to overlook things that I would get yelled at if I did. I know I am going to have to forgive and get past a lot. I know this is going to be incredibly difficult. This may be one of the hardest things that I have ever had to do, but that is how much I love Jay. I know that I will fail at this, most likely miserably at first. But with the help of God (because I sure can’t do this on my own), I will steadfastly show Jay love the way he showed me love. I know I am going to be with Jay till one of us dies (and I know the other will follow shortly after), so I am going to do what I can to bend and twist so that those days can be good. If both of us are constantly letting our crazy emotional side take over, our marriage is going to be miserable. I’ve had my fill of crazy days. I had at least two full years of them while Jay held my hand and whispered that he loved me. I can do the same for him. I love you, Crazy Jay. We are twisted fingers, deep divers and schlieren. Apparently I’m also your wench who needs to fetch your grog, whatever that is.

I haven’t been taking my buspar (anti-anxiety medication) regularly for a couple weeks now. After realizing that it causes memory problems, more so then just forgetfulness, I’ve been hesitant to take it. I also don’t like that I have to eat something or else it will make me feel weird. I have found that I have had to eat more and more each time to decrease the side effects. My hands get tingly, my head feels heavy, and there seem to be mouse trails attached to everything. I feel like I’m floating through my day for the hour after I take it. About a month after starting buspar, the weird side effects seemed to cease, but they have since come back. It makes me wonder if this is a medication I even need to be on anymore. I had never planned to take it indefinitely. It was really just to get me through that time of incredibly high anxiety. I think I have only taken my night dosage twice in the last week or two, and I have completely stopped taking it in the morning and afternoon due to the side effects. I think I am doing ok without it. I haven’t felt increased anxiety, though I have plenty to be anxious about at the moment (moving to a new state, being in a new office with new people, having increased duties at work, how the move is affecting my fambly). I feel like I SHOULD be taking it, just for the sake of taking it. I know that sounds strange. I’m not even sure I know what I mean. I guess I feel like if I don’t need medication, then maybe I’m not sick. I know that is just straight up not the case. I also know that there is no approved medication to treat borderline personality disorder, so me not being on medication is no indication of whether or not I have BPD. I read somewhere that, while people’s symptoms may improve, they are not considered “recovered” for six years after they start doing better. It is important to me to know that I DO have BPD. Otherwise I would feel like a total piece of shit who just can’t stop hurting the fambly I love. If there is not an explanation for my craziness, my lack of empathy, my not knowing what is appropriate to say to people, my constant unconscious hurting of others, then I really AM just a worthless piece of shit who doesn’t deserve to live. Or at least doesn’t deserve to have a husband who loves me like mine does.

But I digress…

I will continue to monitor myself while off the buspar. I have not really weaned myself off the medication like I probably should have, and I have done this without being under the care of a doctor. All I have noticed is slight headaches from time to time, but that could also be my body adjusting to all the coffee I have suddenly started drinking again. I noticed that my hands are shaky, but that has always been an issue for me. I think I have low blood sugar. Oddly enough, my hands did NOT shake while on the buspar, but that could have been because I had to make sure I ate at regular times to keep the funky side effects to a minimum. I am glad I am not so anxious that I am paralyzed without this medication. There was one time a couple months ago where I couldn’t take my buspar as prescribed because I couldn’t afford to refill my prescription. I definitely noticed an increase in anxiety then. I think as I have learned skills to cope with life around me (and the crazy life I live in my head), my anxiety has significantly decreased. Despite what I said in the above paragraph, I think I am glad to be off this medicine. I was always embarrassed to have to pull out my pill bottles at work. I didn’t want to be asked what I was taking and why. We’ll see how it goes, but I think that this is just one more sign that I am pulling myself together and doing so much better.